Shorts are the least sexy
Item of clothing
A human can possibly wear,
Beating out Birkenstocks,
And even trench coats made of hair.
I see Lady Gaga
Wear a dress of raw meat
And I think “Well, I guess it’s okay.”
But if I see your knees
And you’re not in a skirt
Then you’ve probably ruined my day.
I wonder if pants are perverts,
Delighted by their jobs,
Or whether some are picky
And are nether-region snobs.
And how do skirts and dresses
Differ from their legged kinds?
I imagine they are similar,
But with much more open minds.
And what of kilts and leggings?
Of loincloths and codpieces?
What difference is the length and style
Of those modesty-guarding fleeces?
Perhaps I’ll never know the musings
Of my lower body clothing.
I just hope their destiny
Is something they aren’t loathing.